A Secret Smile
by IWantYouInMyLife
Summary: Tony has a secret smile, and only Peter will ever know about it.


Tony has many smiles.

It's who he is — who he was bred, born, and raised to be. A man with many faces and several smiles, all with apparent and hidden meanings, built upon layers of skin, blood, tears, and that steel core that all Stark men seem to be made of deep down inside.

It's not a secret. Anyone who observes Tony for a little while can clearly see that he uses his charm as a strategy, a front, designed to both protect him from outside threats and constructed as a weapon to destroy all barriers in his path. And the smiles — _god_, the smiles — they are the special ammunition, and they _always_ work.

So, yeah, Tony has several smiles.

Peter knows them all — has them memorized and printed in his mind.

The I-think-you-are-an-idiot smile that Tony uses for politicians, scientists, socialites, or anyone, really, who stops by his side and tries to bullshit him with a new proposal or idea — firm in the belief that Tony Stark is a celebrity, and those people are never quite as smart as they pretend to be. That one is a small smile — barely a stretch of his lips, no teeth and no openings.

Tony says that everyone who grew up mingling among the 1% has that smile down to a pat — perfected and ready to use at any given time. It never fails to make Peter appreciate his own uprising a whole lot more when Tony explains that sort of thing.

Then there's the I' m-awesome-look-at-me-and-love-me smile, which Tony mainly saves for reporters, journalists, paparazzi, and crazy fans, who are all searching for the exact thing Tony is willing to give: an image, an ideal, a façade...something almost godlike, that cannot be touched or reached, only observed, respected, and desired.

It's the one he uses the most when he's out in public. Open mouthed and full of perfectly white teeth.

If there's one smile Peter hates, is that one. Maybe because it's all front and no real Tony, whenever that smile is plastered across his face. It's a mask, plain and simple — a trick Tony pulls out of his sleeve as soon as a flash goes off near him, seeming to come out of nowhere, regardless of his emotional state at the time.

Alongside that, there's even the I'm-Iron-Man-trust-me smile that he plasters on whenever they are out in the field, and he has to interact with the public, make them listen to him, obey his orders. It's a reassuring and commanding smile — one that has people scrambling over themselves to do precisely as Tony says, always eager to please, to impress.

Peter knew those smiles even before meeting Tony, though. They are public property, and, as he said, one has only to study Tony for the shortest of times to see them, catalog them, understand when, where and with who they come out. They are well documented — much like everything else about Tony Stark.

However, Tony has other smiles, too. A few wild cards he uses only very sparingly, when in private, with people he knows and cares about. The real ones, that actually mean something, and that show a bit of his real personality whenever they come out to play.

The happy, free, amused ones he shares with the Avengers around the tower when he's wearing only dirty, rock bands t-shirts and jeans while eating fruit-loops straight from the box, and unconcerned about who might see him. Or the soft, exasperated kind he saves for his bots, and are used only ever when they do something stupid that Tony cannot help but find endearing.

And, lastly, are Peter's favorites. The two that never fail to melt a piece of Peter's heart whenever he sees them, 'cause they are so goddamn rare and precious and sincere and amazing — and, most of all, so utterly and completely Tony. The ones that he saves, close to his heart, and allows himself to share only with a handful of people who he trusts above all else.

The first one is the wild, carefree, all-loose, Tony Stark smile that comes out to play when he's creating new tech in the lab, or having a drink with Rhodey, or sharing an inside joke with Happy, or rambling around Pepper about his plans for their future, for the company, for the Avengers, for life in general and all the things he's excited about it.

It's a gorgeous smile — Peter won't lie. Perhaps 'cause it pulls on his skin, and reaches his eyes to reveal a wide range of deep emotions that most people believe Tony Stark to be incapable of feeling. It's personal, private. It also speaks volumes of relaxation, comfort, loyalty, trust, compassion, commitment, and, yeah, sure, love — even though Peter's pretty sure Tony would deny loving a single person in the entire universe if asked.

Peter absolutely adores that freaking smile — still feels so goddamn lucky to be included in the small group of people who get to see the real Tony, without any of the bullshit that he wears, much like the suits, and ties, and sunglasses, and expensive watches, every day to wherever he goes. Peter knows that it's a privilege, and he vows to never forget how amazing it is to have the trust of a person who has been hurt by so many, over and over again, throughout the years.

The thing is — it's truly an amazing smile, and it had been Peter's favorite up until Tony bestowed him with a new one, a different, brand new smile that Peter had never thought to be possible for Tony. A brand new smile that has a sole recipient: Peter Parker.

Something sacred and reserved and free and intimate and profound and confidential and proud and loving and, fuck, paternal. It's that secret smile that Tony wears only ever so often, only when there's just the two of them, talking about life or sharing personal secrets or working together at the lab at 2 am, and it's dark and silent, and the atmosphere feels like a bubble surrounding them.

Peter _loves_ that smile. Craves it in the same way as a junkie craves his next hit — desperately and unashamedly. It _must_ be heroin, the way Tony's lips barely curve upwards, and yet his whole face softens — his eyes bright, gleaming with undisguised affection.

Tony has a secret smile, and only Peter will ever know about it. No one else will ever find out about how his entire stance shifts and Tony's shoulders sag, dropping all his barriers until there's only the man underneath it, who's so, so vulnerable, and has a long list of fears and triggers, and yet still manages to burn bright enough to overshadow the sun, in Peter's humble opinion.

The point is: it's lovely. And it's precisely the smile that Peter is staring at right at the moment, as they work conjointly on the Spider-Man suit on a Friday night, alone in the lab, with Metallica playing on the background and with no plans on leaving any time soon. For the time being, they have no commitments and no responsibilities beyond the doors of the lab, and they are not Spider-Man or Iron-Man, or student or businessman, no, they are just two genius working flawlessly together on a project, having fun and not giving a shit about anything else.

_Christ_, Peter wishes he could stop the clock to prolong the moment indefinitely, right there, with Tony smiling at him in a way that suggests Peter is the greatest gift to mankind since Jesus himself while Peter stares right back, soaking it in, basking in the feeling of love that pours out of Tony in waves, cascades, and avalanches — endless and overwhelming.

"Are you alright there, kid?" Tony calls, but it's gentle and soft-spoken, as though he knows that, yes, Peter is great, awesome, incredible, and no, he doesn't want to stop, to leave, to break the moment by saying anything stupid.

Peter's fingers spasms and the suit drops from his hands, landing quietly onto the counter. "Yeah, yeah... I—I'm good," he says, having to unstick his dry tongue from the roof of his mouth. Had he lost anything in his daydreams? "What were you saying?"

"Nothing, buddy. I was checking to see if you're okay," Tony says, reaching forward to ruffle the curls in his Peter's head, but allowing the touch to linger longer than necessary. After a pause, in which he seems to consider an idea, Tony suggests. "Maybe we could get some ice-cream? Shawarma? I'm getting kinda hungry, to be honest."

And Peter hears clearly what his mentor is saying in between the lines — the offer to settle, to get ready for an all-nighter, to share with him the tiny rituals that he formed over the years as Tony started to spend more and more hours locked down in the lab, shutting off the outside world and all of its demands. It's a careful offer, something that Tony had obviously thought about beforehand — not a thing to be taken lightly.

The thing is: they had eaten in the lab before, just as they had lost track of time writing codes, or coming up with new designs, or fixing up parts of the suits, or trying out new formulas... But this is a whole new level for Tony; because this has intent and motivation and it means a whole lot to the engineer, who's built the lab to be his impenetrable fortress.

"Yes!" Peter agrees, too fast, jumping at the opportunity without a single moment of consideration, too afraid that Tony will regret the offer and take it back if only Peter takes five seconds to respond. "Shit, yes. I mean, of course. Duh, if I want to? I want to; I do. Sure, yeah."

Tony chuckles. "I got it, buddy. Just don't forget to breathe, alright? Wouldn't want to pass out here, trust me, the floor is not the most comfortable surface to lie on," he shares, sounding weirdly as if he's speaking from personal experience, and his hand drops from Peter's head to land on the side of his face, on his neck. Tony stops, just resting it there, touching him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm breathing." Only he's not, not really.

"Sure you are."

"Weren't you saying something about shawarma, old man? I'm getting hungry here."

"Who are you calling an old man? I was elected sexiest man alive, Parker. Again, I might say," Tony mock scolds him, but dutifully raises his head. "Fri, you heard the kid — get me food. I want ice-cream, don't forget my ice-cream."

"Stark Raving Hazelnuts?" Peter teases, as always, blow away that he gets to be there, that he gets to tease Tony, and the man only smiles wider in return, _letting _him, encouraging his playfulness.

"_You got it, boss,_" FRIDAY chimes in, and it might be Peter's wishful thinking, but even she sounds more relaxed than usual. "_Should I ask for double your regular order?_"

"Nope," Tony says, shaking his head. His hand falls from Peter's neck, and he instantly misses the contact. "Baby Spider needs food to grow, and I'd like to eat mine in peace — without the longing looks and all that. Make it big, sweetheart."

"God, you speaking like that makes it sound like I'm constantly stealing your food," Peter whine, rolling his eyes.

"_Copy that, boss. Shall I order the Stark Raving Hazelnuts?_"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Tony stops. "You're a menace, kid," he says, bumping their shoulders together, and he's searching the contact, keeping close to Peter, fondness etched into every inch of his face, and it's _glorious_. "Yeah, Fri. Get that damn ice-cream." He pauses, studying Peter for a second. "Just my luck, I guess, that my kid would like Ben & Jerry's when he can have any damn ice-cream in the world."

It's supposed to be funny, 'cause Tony doesn't give a fuck about fancy food, and he's always the first one to suggest they order fast-food, or whip up some shit with the things they have on hand, but Peter can hardly focus on that part. How could he, when his brain is currently shutting down?

My kid. My kid. My. Kid. _His_. His kid.

Tony calls Peter his kid.

Just like that.

_God_.

Peter's heart begins to pound inside his chest, and he's quite sure he's shaking, trembling with all the feelings coursing through his body like a bolt of lighting, but he wants it. Wants it so damn badly — to be around Tony, to have him, to be wanted by him, to get to be the one who calls Tony—

"What can I say?" Peter tries to make it a joke, but he's pretty sure Tony can hear the tears clogging up his throat. "Guess I just take after my Dad."

He says it — just open his mouth and speaks what he has wanted to say for a long time now — and has to resist the urge to flinch, to look down, to gaze away from Tony's piercing stare and the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops a bit, but then it happens. Tony's mouth stretches, his expression softens impossibly, and there it is, the smile — that smile.

A secret smile. _Peter's_ smile.

Tony doesn't say anything, but his hand is raising again, going back to its place on Peter's hair, more of a caress than anything else, and maybe, just maybe, Peter too has a secret smile that belongs only to Tony, 'cause he doesn't think his expression had ever settled quite like that.

Maybe it means something.

Peter wants to believe that.

* * *

**Author's Note: Maybe I'm drunk. Maybe I'm slightly ill. Maybe. Just maybe. Xoxo.**


End file.
